Arthur Hates Guinevere
by renelenier
Summary: Modern AU. Arthur and Guinevere are not besties, but after a faithful evening will they be able to survive the others wrath?
1. One Evening

If Arthur Pendragon was a completely conceited man, he would consider himself hot, exceedingly hot and definitely man candy for more than a fair share of the female population. He had movie star looks, an athlete's physique and a bankroll worthy of residency in Monte Carlo. But he's not completely conceited, a touch arrogant yes, but it's more a byproduct of a healthy self-confidence than pure egotism – everyone who knew him said so and many of them meant because they were truly his friends…really and not because he was the boss.

He was approachable, remembered even the most irrelevant member of his staff's first or last name and all their birthdays. He was not a bad guy. Everyone liked him and he genuinely liked most of them, except her. He never used the word hate, yet with her it came with remarkable ease. But don't take our word for it. The story is much more fun from his point of view, so we'll let him tell you:

Guinevere Leodegrace was the snappy little firecracker that my father, Uther Pendragon, hired to head up our European division. She was a Rhodes Scholar, before that a double major who graduated in half the time. Multilingual; she is fluent in French, Spanish, German, Italian and never one to shy away from a challenge, currently studying Mandarin and Japanese simultaneously.

I don't have to tell you she's smart, if you're paying attention, you would have figured that out already. So she's smart and she's good and incredibly good looking. The kind of good looking that knows it's better than everyone else's good looking. But before you go thinking that I'm some woman-hating, anti-feminist jerk, I assure you that I'm not. My hatred for her is justified. She is truly, a selfish, heartless evil bitch and that's why I hate her. That and the fact that the only thing that can match my hatred of her is the equal disdain that she has no compunction showing me, her boss – her boss's boss's son.

I hate the way she struts about the office in her pencil skirt and red-soled high heels, turning the heads of men and women alike. I hate how she interrupts me in meetings, pointing out something glaring that I innocently overlooked because she distracted me when she crossed her legs and exposed the lacy garter attached to her stockings. I hate the way she strokes her pen between her thumb and index finger or the way she taps the tip of it against her soft full lips while every other man in this conference room is thinking the same devious thoughts that I am.

And speaking of the men in this room, she's had her way with all of them. Gwaine, the office pretty boy, she gave him her number before she was out of Human Resources with her access card and photo ID. She took him that night but refused to see him again, so now he mopes around the office pining for her forty to sixty hours a week (like I pay him good money to do that).

And then there's Merlin. Fucking Merlin! If the good people at Webster's dictionary petitioned for photo entries of the perfect cross between nerd and geek his mug would be right there, front and fucking center. She's slept with him at least twice. Even, Leon, who has a boyfriend for the record, has seen her boobs. They like to shop together in the afternoons.

What about me, you ask? Well, the little slut thinks she's too good for me. Ignoring all my charming, respectful advances, my well argued, though admittedly desperate, logic that we would make great fuck buddies and when those didn't work my threatening propositions…until last night. A solid year. Twelve shite months of me doing and saying just about anything to get her to take me home.

It was her one year anniversary with the company. From across the room she looked at me and I recognized the meaning in her eyes completely. I cannot tell you how many traffic laws I broke trying to get to her place. I was so hard and she was so wet and so fucking tight. Now I know why she turned Gwaine into a sniveling little bitch overnight.

She was amazing. Her tits were perfect and her ass fit perfectly in my hands. Now whenever she bends over Leon's desk, I have a perfect view of it and I can't help but get hard when all the images come roaring back in a flash. BTW…she's been bending over Leon's desk all fucking afternoon.

When she got back from lunch – where she doesn't eat, instead she swims laps in the pool at her exclusive gym – I almost bumped into her…again she distracted me. This time I think it was that intoxicating smell coming from the soft curls, she has tucked away now in a very reserved bun. The same curls I buried my face into as she nuzzled her tiny head on my chest, just before she kicked out of her bed and her apartment, telling me that I was great 'amazing, really' where her exact words, 'but I have an early morning meeting tomorrow'. It was my fucking staff meeting for Christ's sake! Which, the little trollop showed up to wearing that top that I expressly told her at the office Christmas party was my favorite on her.

Without a doubt I hate this woman, especially the obnoxious way she sends emails and text messages to other people while she's in the middle of a conversation with someone standing right in front of her…like she's doing now. How fucking rude. So you see I'm not a pig and she is an evil witch and most deserving of my ire. At least this horrible day is almost over.

So there you have it straight from the horse's mouth. Arthur hates Guinevere, or does he…

Arthur rolled his eyes at Guinevere as she punched the last key on her mobile. She disappeared to her office and he clicked the send button on his email before closing his laptop. He reached for his buzzing phone, punched out a reply and quickly gathered his belongings and rushed out of his door, breezing by his assistant Leon without a word and making a beeline for the elevator.

From his left the familiar graceful clicking of Guinevere's heals can be heard as he turns, holding the elevator door and allowing her to enter before him.

"Mr. Pendragon," she said.

"How was your day, Guinevere?"

"Very productive sir. Yours?"

"Stimulating," he replied.

"I'm glad. I am thrilled you got my text, although I didn't think you would come after the way I treated you last night."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

So maybe, the gentleman doth protests too much. But Arthur Pendragon, if you asked him, would swear on a stack of bibles that he hated Guinevere Leodegrace.

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**A/N: So I read this again and realized just how angry this poor Arthur was. Apologies to all the Arthur and Arwen fans out there. I don't know what overtook the night I wrote it. :) I still like him being this much on edge though. Maybe he'll cool off a bit in future chapters.**


	2. And It Begins

**Bringing this one out of retirement, because I just can't seem to help myself.**

_"It's beyond my control" _

_ -Vicomte de Valmont, Dangerous Liaisons_

* * *

"You should go," she tells me.

"Why, it's Friday night," I replied stretching and twisting my limbs. "I know you don't have an early morning meeting to go to tomorrow."

She sat on the side of her bed, pulling my favorite top over her mass of curls. I dug my fingers into it and pulled her lips into a kiss. Her lips moved with mine; like an eager lover's should, but when I pulled away I didn't see the same emotion in her eyes that I felt from her mouth.

"What is it with you? We just had a perfectly wonderful evening. Why are you trying to get rid of me?"

She ignored me and started cycling through the messages on her phone.

"Oh yeah, that's mature."

"Arthur this is not an invitation for arguing." She didn't even look up at me as she spoke. "I'd win anyway."

"I'm not running a race with you Guinevere. I'd like to have a serious conversation about what we are doing here." Her eyes traveled to mine. It was the only indication that she was listening. "So, what are we doing?"

"It's just sex Arthur. It's not a big deal."

"So that's why you can have it freely with everyone." I should not have said that. I've never seen such rage come from a pretty place.

"This is over. You know your way out."

I never know when to quit. "Is this what happen to Gwaine?"

"You assume I slept with Gwaine."

"Well didn't you?"

"Whether I did or I didn't, it's really none of your business." She walked away from the bed and stood next to the door.

"And Merlin." I grabbed my boxers from the floor. "What was that about?"

"Some people have instant chemistry Arthur."

"Instant chemistry," I mocked her with a faux sympathetic nod.

"Agghhh, you are so aggravating."

"Me? Me? You are a crazy woman," I heard myself say, pausing a bit between each word.

"Get out," her voice began to rise over mine.

"Gladly."

She walked out of the room, wearing her top and panties. It kills me that I find her so damn sexy when she's being like this. I don't know how I'm going to face her Monday morning or how I'll get through the weekend without obsessing.

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A/N: Gwen's POV coming soon...


	3. Guinevere Hates Arthur?

**I'm having a lot of fun writing this one. It's a bit of challenge (this chapter in particular) but I like how it turned out and I'm eager to update it the next chapter, but it still needs work but I think you'll it as much as I do. Anyhoo...read on and continue reviewing. I have taken your words to heart (sounds like heart when Kilgharrah says it).  
**

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I have a fantastic life. It's not ordinary or overly complicated. I'm not a librarian nor am I daredevil. It's practical yet spirited and at times can be downright hilarious. I visit with my girlfriends at our book a month reading club; this month we're reading 'The Crystal Cave'. In my spare time I volunteer at the crisis shelter and I find homes for abandon or stray kittens and puppies. Am I due for canonization? Not exactly. I'm no saint either.

I love my job. I work insane hours and travel all the time, but I still stop to smell the roses. I vacation twice a year. Okay, so I cannot stay in anything less than four star accommodations, but while I'm there, I do try my best to experience the place as a local and learn something about its culture beyond what you would read in the guide books. There's no Noble prize for that is there?

I over indulge in shopping. Shoes, mostly shoes but my overcrowded closets are more honest about that than I am willing be right now. This is why I love Leon, he understands my need – the shared addiction is the only thing that's stereotypically gay about that gay man. We do it at lunch. The office is in a great location for it. Whether we are here or there, he makes me laugh. We're always together, although I do like most everyone at work.

I'm a pragmatist at heart and it is not in my nature to dislike a person who isn't inherently evil. I sincerely subscribe to the live and let live way of life and besides, I'm far too busy with my life to pay too much attention to the minor trappings of other people's dalliances.

Don't get me wrong. I do really care about people. I sign the office birthday cards and even sing when there's cake. I have a great family that I adore and they keep me grounded. Wonderful friends? I have loads of them. In fact, it was through some of them that I first heard stories about him.

They told me he was witty, a tad sardonic but with genuine comedic timing so it wasn't ever offensive. They told me he was smart – graduated at the top of his class and from true effort not as of his legendary pedigree. They told me he was handsome, striking one of them said. They told me he could stand before you and negotiate himself into and out of your life in a way that would make you glad in one moment or leaving you sobbing uncontrollably the next, either way you'd walk away from it just happy for having been a part of the exchange.

Quick observation proved that they were right in the first three instances. And in short order, I came to see that the last one was also a fait accompli. He was everything they had promised and more. That worried me. See, Arthur was just the right combination of arresting and brilliant that made him a danger to my person.

An intelligent, funny man with chiseled features, a winning smile and perfect biceps would be any woman's Achilles' heel, but mine in particular. Men like that, like him should be outlawed, brandished with a scarlet letter and banished to the far, far, farthest corner of my periphery.

It was not loathing at first sight. We had a rather cordial meeting when Uther Pendragon introduced me to his son. He was cocky, very full of himself, but that is to be expected for one of his breeding and overall prettiness.

I shook his hand and more than likely he mistook my guarded professionalism as a blatant disregard for his charms – the cold reaction of a heartless shrew. But I'll remind you this man is my boss and I know I didn't mention it to you before but this job is my dream job and I cannot allow anything to interfere with that dream.

Whenever I found myself in his company, I found a way to leave it as soon as possible. I kept my distance, but he is my boss so I can't avoid him nor can I completely extricate him from my life like I have with some (Gwaine, the office stalker). At company parties, I never socialized with him more than I had to and if we were ever alone I made sure there was an endless stream of work related drivel to bore him with and a stony face to match. I made him crazy. Did I say, 'I made him crazy'? I meant to say '_it_ made him crazy'; 'it made him crazy'.

But throughout the course of my life, I had developed an excellent talent for compartmentalizing, so mentally, I wrote 'Do Not Touch' in big, red Sharpie letters on Post it Notes and stuck them all over his fighting fit body. From that moment on, he was little more than a curiosity but nothing more than that.

I never laughed at any of his funny jokes. I refused to fawn over him like all the other women in the office or any who came within a reasonable radius of him it seemed. That wasn't so much because he was off limits; I'm just not much of a fawner, really.

If I had to use one word to describe my behavior in the year since I had met the man, that word would be indifference. I was very indifferent towards him. For the third time now, I'll say to you, he is my boss. Although that bit of reality doesn't seem to bother him.

Still, the hatred didn't come until much later. Arthur, for the most part appeared to have just the opposite reaction from what I had anticipated. The allure of something shiny and new that did not acknowledge his presence or beg to be near him was too great. It must be a new sensation for him, I'm sure. I think I became something of a challenge to him and the more I resisted, the harder he would try.

He wooed, he pressed and then he wooed some more.I mostly ignored it, but then it got too hard and began consuming too many of the hours in our day. So I did what any sound minded person in my position would do. I'm employed a deflection strategy in the form of Merlin. A great guy, but we knew we could only be friends, even though there was an initial spark. This might have been the moment were things fell apart.

Arthur did not take our wouldbe union very well and my little scheme backfired. He began thinking the worst of my intentions and my relationship with Merlin. He fantasized certain realities that weren't even there. I wanted him to stay away, but I didn't want him to hate me. Nevertheless, the confrontational encounters that ensued, pretty much cemented our mutual disdain.

This was when the hatred started. It was slow burn, but the fire's been raging ever since.

So obviously, you're sitting there wondering. You've heard my side of things and I'm certain you are waiting for me to answer your most important question. Why Guinevere, given the preponderance of the facts as previously outlined in your circumstances; why, oh why, did you invite him home with you that night?

A very small part of me did it to be cruel, but in all honesty the tension we had built up was just plain fun. Watching his reactions to my taunting was a true delight at times, especially when it made him fumble and fluster in front of others like his father. It was good pay back for him being born so beautiful for no good reason.

Most of the time, my teasing resulted in him turning red-faced in anger and clamming up or left him so exasperated that he would spend the rest of the day in his office in hopes of never seeing me and being able to sneak away when the office wasn't looking.

But recently there's been a wicked turn of events. The anger or frustration that I had come to expect and enjoy, evolved into the must unbearably cute pouting you could imagine. It's not just one of those: look at me I'm so sad pouty faces. They were: look at me it's all your fault why I'm so sad and only you can make it better, pouts. One of those babies wrapped in a damn Anne Geddes sunflower would find it hard pressed to compete with.

So on the night of my one year anniversary, I gave in to the temptation that haunted me, because another thing you should know about me is that I don't believe in burdening oneself with unnecessary obstacles and trials. Canonization is definitely not in the cards for me. Exercise the demons and then move on.

And as for your follow up question as to why the hell I send him a similar message the following day? Well that was just plain suicide.

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**A/N: I'll probably post chapter four this weekend. **


	4. Here We Go Again

**So I am a terrible, awful liar. Here's the next installment a few days early. This chapter was inspired by the irresistible force paradox and the song 'Animal' by Neon Trees. I hope you guys like it.  
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**It was almost six o'clock. They should be headed up the elevator by now. Any moment now they would be knocking at her door. She put the last basket, filled with warm bread rolls on the side of the table, leaving enough room for the main course that her father likely labored over for the last forty eight hours. A full day to marinade the meat and another to prep and cook it.

She heard the faint buzz. Another text message, she thought. She grabbed the phone just as the playful rapping could be heard at the door. The message was from him again. She opened it, thinking it was yet another one of his 'I'm so sorry for calling you a slut last night, please forgive me' messages. He had sent several since their short, but heated argument.

This one read: _You only have yourself to blame. _

And he calls me crazy, she said aloud.

The phone was set to silent mode and placed inside the drawer of the side table. Family dinner time was for two things: dinner and family. She ran over to the front door, bouncing at the thought of seeing her brother Elyan and her father Thomas for their once a month tradition. With work and everything else in her, she didn't get to see them very much. Nights like these were the highlight of her year.

"Dad, I'm so glad you're…"

"Hey you," her brother said, smacking her on the cheek and wasting no time with further pleasantries.

"Where's Dad?"

"Coming," she heard from the hall. The girlish smile returned to her face. She pulled the door wide open to greet her father, bobbing up and down on her toes. "Gwen, darling, look who we stumbled into on the way up." He was holding a covered casserole dish in one hand. He wrapped his free arm around her in a warm embrace, while her eyes narrowed at the man standing in the hall.

Tom broke his hug to look at her and she improved her disposition.

"It's Arthur right?" He asked his daughter.

"Yes, it is," she answered and then turned her attention to her boss. "But this is very odd. What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I thought you needed me to stop by tonight," Arthur replied.

"No, no. Remember I told you I was having a little family get together tonight."

"Ah, completely my fault. I'm sorry. I must have gotten the dates mixed up."

"You should stay for dinner. We brought plenty of chicken," Tom broke in. Her father enjoyed feeding anyone his chicken. He couldn't be more proud of it.

"Oh, no, we, we can't do that." She chuckled a bit when she said it in an attempt to conceal her true feelings. It almost sounded sincere. Almost. Her father looked her with a glare of unmistakable rebuke. He did not raise his daughter to be rude.

"I mean, I don't want to keep him." She continued, avoiding her father's eyes. "Single guy on a Saturday night, you probably have loads to do, out, there, somewhere…else."

"Actually, I am completely free since my plans were to be here tonight and," he paused for effect. "…chicken is my favorite."

"Well come on in then. Gwen's making some tapas and they're the best." Her father practically dragged the man through over the threshold.

"Really?" Arthur said raising his voice a couple of octaves to denote his interest in the subject. "You know, she never talks about her cooking at work." He raised both eyebrows and looked back at her angry face over his shoulders.

She spent another minute or two in the foyer. The men were already laughing out of her view deeper inside her apartment._ This, he will pay dearly for_. They were all seated around the television, but not watching it. They were like old college pals, army buddies or some other description that could illustrate the ease at which men could interact upon just meeting each other.

"I'm going to check on the tapas. Arthur, I could use your help."

"Oh you do not want see me in a kitchen Guinevere. I'm a terrible cook - all thumbs." He wiggled them in the air, then he gave her the 'two thumbs up' sign and a wide set grin.

"Well perhaps you could help me with the dishes then."

She was not amused. Arthur was brave, but he wasn't foolish. "Ah, all right."

He followed her into the kitchen. The swinging door almost smacked him in the face.

"What are you doing here?" She tried to whisper it but failed. Her hands were balled into tight little fists by her side.

"I came to apologize in person. I did actually just happen to stumble onto them on my way up."

"This is not some sort of game Arthur. This is my life and you are not permitted in it outside of work."

"That doesn't even make any sense considering what we've been doing for the past two nights."

"I told you that was over."

"Why are you the only one who gets a say in things?"

"Because," she answered firmly.

"Did you get my flowers?"

"Yes, I got your stupid flowers."

"But you wouldn't answer my calls or messages."

"I thought it could wait until Monday."

"I sent you a million messages."

"Because you're psychotic. If I needed any more proof of that, hijacking my family dinner night is certainly it," she replied.

"I was invited by your father."

"Oh yeah. God knows what you might have said to him in the elevator."

"He likes me," he replied.

"You've known each other for five minutes. You're not going to be hanging out together next weekend."

"We might. You look great by the way."

"Is everything all right in there?" Tom shouted.

"Yeah, we're fine Dad." She looked at Arthur who was about to take a bite of one of the bacon wrapped dates artfully placed on the white serving plate. She snatched it away and looked at him, eyes blazing. "You have to go."

"But I want to taste your tapas." He leered at her. She glared at him.

The kitchen door swung open again. "Come on you two, I'm starving," Elyan said, stepping between them and lifting the stack of dinner plates and the appetizers from the counter.

Arthur grabbed the wine glasses and followed behind her brother before she could utter a word.

* * *

She could have killed him. The Japanese made chef's knife was right there on the counter. She stared at it, imagining whether he'd be so smug if the bloody handle was protruding from his chest.

She grabbed a forth plate, knife and fork and a wine glass from the cabinet and left the knife in the block, for now.

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**A/N: More to come at dinner... Don't forget to review and tell me what you think. I think the next chapter will be the finale and I know I won't finish it until the weekend. Again, thanks for sticking with the story so far.  
**


	5. Destiny and Chicken

**Final chapter...R/R.**

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It wasn't like they were making a concerted effort to get along, they were both nice to him from the moment he bumped into her brother outside. At first it was a little difficult to really picture her as a part of these two people's lives.

They were such a contrast to the image that he'd come to accept of her. But as he watched her from across the table, he saw parts of her that he doubted she allowed anyone to see, not even her "besties" Merlin and Leon.

He liked her family and liked seeing her with them. He didn't care how many times she would send him that faux smile tonight. It was the one she always used, with everyone, but after seeing the more authentic version whenever she would look at her father or sometimes with her older sibling, he could tell the difference and it was all he wanted to see.

"So, are you two dating?"

Gwen almost choked on her wine, but she wasted no time at all refuting the assertion. "Elyan, don't be ridiculous. Arthur is my boss and we have very strict rules about interoffice fraternizing. Isn't that right, boss?"

Arthur stuck a mouthful of the delicious chicken past his lips and just smiled as he chewed.

Fortunately, her father changed the subject to what his daughter was like at work. Arthur told him that she was the most valuable part of his team and that he couldn't get much done without her. He seemed sincere, but how could he not have been? It was mostly true.

Maybe this wasn't going to be such a horrible night after all, she thought. Arthur was behaving himself and they actually seem to be having an easy time at conversing. Which hasn't always been the case, especially with Elyan who had adopted an over protective nature from her father. _He'd still have to pay for interrupting the whole affair, but maybe…_

"Gwen loved to dance. Didn't you sweetie?"

She snapped out of her reverie at her father's question.

"I use to pick her up from ballet; she never wanted to leave that studio."

When in the hell did they stop talking about her professional world and moved on to this, she wondered. "Dad, I don't think Arthur wants to hear about that."

He ignored her, thoroughly enjoying the practical stranger's company. "I remember one time, she had a school play and she had to be the tomato."

"No it was the orange," Elyan corrected. He was all smiles.

"Yes, that's right the orange. I think I only thought it was a tomato because I'd never seen her get so angry. She was completely red."

They laughed. Gwen pouted as the men continued talking about her childhood as if she were an accessory in the room. Arthur had never seen her like this before. Normally, she pulled all the levers in her relationship with others, but here in the presence of her two favorite people in the world, she was out-manned, at their mercy and acquiescent.

She spent much of what was left of the evening insisting on being a good hostess. She left them to take care of cleaning duties; anything to be anywhere but near them while her father and brother continued to regale their guest with what she considered to be embarrassing tales of her youth.

Arthur, Tom and Elyan were still chatting it up when she finally emerged some time later from the kitchen, still choosing to leave the chef's knife in its place.

"Well, we should be going. It is getting late." Tom declared.

"So soon," she asked. Their night had been usurped and although the men were satisfied she was not. They started their farewells and headed towards the door.

"Ah Gwen,"

"What is it Arthur?" She could no longer hide her contempt for the interloper.

"I just need to make a stop in the little boy's room before I hit the road."

"Oh no problem, it's right back there." Her father's chumminess was really beginning to piss her off. "Arthur. It was good to meet you."

"Same here." They shook hands.

"I expect you to take good care of my little girl," he added.

"I will do my best sir." She rolled her eyes thinking she had traveled back in time to the Dark Ages where women needed a father or husband to ensure their security. _Hello, that's what the expensive financial planner and my metallic pink taser are for._

Arthur and Elyan went on about getting together next month for something of the sort. By now Gwen was too exhausted to care.

"Good night you two and drive safe."

She walked over to the bathroom door and rapped three slow, sorry knocks against the wood.

"Yes," he replied almost singing it.

"You can stop pretending now. They're gone."

"I'm not quite finished."

"Haven't you tortured me enough for one evening?"

He opened the door to face her. "You've tortured me since the day I met you. It's only fair that I get to enjoy this for as long as possible."

"Oh stop being such a girl." He watched her turned away from him and sat kicking her heels up onto the table.

"You know Gwen."

"Do not call me that," she warned him with a pointed finger.

He sat as close to her as she would allow him. "You are especially pretty when you pout."

"I cannot believe he told you all those awful stories." Her head fell backwards onto his outstretched arm.

"I wouldn't mind seeing you in that tutu."

"Stop it."

His fingers nestled their way into her hair. "Oh come on, it was nice to see you as yourself, not trying to be perfect and in control all the time."

She dropped her head to the side to look at him and then shifted her body to face his.

"I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you last night and what for I said. I was upset and I was rude. Can you please forgive me?"

She exhaled sharply. "You are forgiven, but it wasn't all your fault."

"Whatever the case, you were right. It's none of my business. I just, I don't want you to hate me."

"I don't hate you Arthur."

His expression questioned her answer.

"Well maybe I did a little for the briefest of moments." She leaned forward and kissed him. It was not a deep exchange, but she stayed close to him.

"What was that for?"

"It's a peace offering. I'm sorry for being such a mean girl the past year. Now, can we just forget all of this ever happened and just go back to the way things were before the other night?"

"You mean go back to when you pretend to hate me and I pretend to hate you?"

"No, let's just be civil with each other."

"Just civil then? Not even friends?"

"No. I don't know. You're my boss, Arthur. I can't be your friend."

"Good because that's not what I'm asking."

"We can't be that either. It would never work."

"How do you know that?"

"We'd argue all the time."

"Not necessarily."

"And then what would everyone think of us at the office."

"No one there has to know."

"And your father..."

"My father loves you."

"Yes, but it's because I'm good at what I do, not because I'm doing bad things with his son." She climbed over his thighs to straddle him.

"Well you're very good at that too. It's just something we won't discuss at the quarterly board meetings."

"There's no use talking about this with you like an adult is there?"

"That ship sailed a long time ago. I want to spend the night; the entire night."

"No."

"Yes."

"How about I let you stay past midnight."

"Not good enough Guinevere."

She pressed her lips to his, kissing him more intently than before. "Fine, you may stay."

"I thought you said you could defeat me in any argument."

"Who says you won? Did you like the tapas?"

"I adore your tapas."

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**A/N: All done. I really want to thank everyone who encouraged me to add new chapters to fic. I enjoyed writing these two, especially the dialogue. I hope you liked it too.  
**


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